


Ride along or get dragged in the dirt

by othersin



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swapfell, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Branding, Crossdressing Kink, Daddy Kink, Drugging, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Ecto-Vagina (Undertale), Explicit Sexual Content, Fontcest, M/M, Murder, Overstimulation, Parent/Child Incest, Restraints, Sadism, Sex Toys, Sexual Slavery, Size Kink, Spanking, Swapcest - Freeform, Swapfell Gaster - Freeform, Swapfell Papyrus - Freeform, Swapfell Sans, Watersports, corsets, disturbing backstory for a character, if i'm going to hell i'm taking you down with me, is this just a reason for me to write monsters in different eras and cultures?, misuse of a bridle, saloon!tale, wild west inspired au, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-01-27 07:09:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12576416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/othersin/pseuds/othersin
Summary: Saloon! Au Swapfell It’s based in the wild west. Papyrus is desperate for a job and when a wealthy doctor and his son require the use of a farmhand. But when the doctor has to travel into the city, his angelic, soft spoken boy turns into a sexual deviant who’s eager to drag Papyrus down with him.But Papyrus won’t be swayed...or will he?





	1. They can smell your fear

  _please be mindful of the tags, i'll try and make a note at the beginning of the smut chapters when I get to it._

 

* * *

Papyrus didn’t know what to do, with the mine running dry of gold he and a lot of other monsters were out of work now - a few wondered into the saloon, content on drowning away their sorrows with the last dregs of their pay or going to the cat house to play with some under skirts . And Papyrus would be honest, he would be joining them if he didn’t spend his last gold piece on a hot meal and a warm bed – which would mean he was out of a room and a meal too at Muffet’s, maybe he could ask her if he could work for his stay and meal now but if he knew the spider woman wouldn’t do that with the amount he owes on his tab.

Papyrus chewed on some tobacco noisily as he thought about his ever growing list of problems, walking though the dusty town with no place to go – he wasn’t really looking where he was going till he just noticed a horse drawn carriage almost run into him, the skeleton horse reared up as Papyrus was just as spooked and fell on his arse.

“Whoa!” A stout turtle monster, with many missing teeth and a huge floppy hat and baggy coat had called from his perch on the carriage trying to calm the irate beast, making the horse snort – stomping irately in its reigns.

“Boy, what da hell do you think you’re doing?!” the  figure shouted down at the fallen Papyrus, who unsteadily pulled himself up – trying to brush the dust from his clothes but it didn’t really do much with his already dusty clothes. Picking up his hat, trying to hit out the sand from the old leather of the Pinkerton styled hat and setting it back up on his skull – a little disgruntled, losing a job and then almost being run over was just his luck.

“I’m sorry sir-“ Papyrus called, warily eyeing the thin stick the other used to whip the horse – probably hurt like hell if the other decided to jump down from his perch and give it to Papyrus. Papyrus gagged a bit, in his fright he swallowed the chewing tobacco.

“I could’ve killed ya!” The driver shook his head, “Idiot...”

“Mr Gerson, what seems to be the holdup?” A cool, but demanding voice bellowed from inside the carriage – it made both Papyrus and Gerson straighten to attention, “I have to be in the lady Mayors office by noon.”

“Sorry Doctor, some fool was walking out in the middle of the road.” Gerson huffed; shuffling was heard in the carriage.

“Goodness me, how terrible!” A younger voice piped up,  and head popped out from the window – eyes big and full of violet light, faint scar marred the others face; a childhood injury no doubt. But if Papyrus had just turned 21 this little skeletons looked to be 16 or 17 – Papyrus couldn’t help but stare at those gorgeous eyes, shining like amethysts and brighter than a desert bloom.

“Are you alright mister?”

“Yes sir...”

“I’m glad.” The monster beamed at him and seemed to retreat back into the carriage, talking to the other occupant only to pop out again.

“As an apology for almost running you over –“

Gerson huffed at that.

“Perhaps you would like to travel with us.”

“No, I couldn’t...”

“It’s really no trouble at all – father has some boring meeting at the mayor’s office and I need some help with some chores, Gerson is far too old and boring to walk with me all day.”

Papyrus looked uncertain again, but found him thinking of those depths of purple.

“I can pay you.” The other added, popping open the carriage door – and Papyrus without really thinking more about found his legs making the decision for him and entering the tight space. With the door clicking closed and the carriage lurched forward continuing it’s trip – it was a nice carriage with padded seats and plenty of leg room but it seemed stifling with the two occupants staring at him, it was unnerving.

“Forgive my son; he has always had the urge to take in strays.” The grinning skeleton muttered, voice deep and seemed to have a slight purr to it – it made Papyrus shiver. He was dressed in a black suit with a silver and black vest, a pocket watch that hung glinting from his pocket – he had a cane and seemed to have faded scars on his own skull. Papyrus could only assume they were from a war or battle.

“Father, I only nurse them back to health - it’s not my fault they don’t want to leave.” The younger skeleton laughed, he had a nice laugh, and he was dressed similarly to his father but seemed to forgo the jacket and stuck to using an embroidered vest with purple flowers and vines.

“I’m sorry but I haven’t introduced myself, my name is Sans.”

Papyrus tipped his hat in greeting, not certain if anything but a squeak would escape him.

“And my name is Dr Wing Dings Gaster.” Gaster tipped his own bowler hat – a hat that was in much better repair than Papyrus’s.

“My name is Papyrus...”

“Papyrus...a name from the old country, thought me and Sans here were the only ones from the old ways.” Gaster hummed, his mismatched coloured lights shone in interest making Papyrus feel even more like a specimen under dissection.

The seductive purr in the Doctor’s tone and words seemed be from an accent – similar to how Papyrus’s late grandmother spoke  but he hadn’t known her that well but Sans seemed to have a more masked accent.

“A name is just a name; I never gave much thought about it.” Papyrus laughed uncomfortably, only breath to hitch at the cool hand touch his arm and Sans look at him in his lovely eyes.

“Forgive my father, he loves the old ways.” Sans said quietly, hand leaving the arm to rest on Papyrus leg, “I’m open to new things however.”

Papyrus stared at the hand and then to the older skeleton in the same carriage as them – conveniently looking out the window, Papyrus returned his gaze slowly to the hand high on his clothed femur. Sans finally removed his searing hand as the carriage came to a stop, but not before he gave a squeeze.

“Ah, we’re here.” Gaster hummed, either not caring or not seeing their passengers flustered appearance and Sans was acting if nothing abnormal happened just then. Papyrus exited out flustered and puzzled, perhaps the other didn’t mean anything about it – as the doctor and his son split ways, the older monster left his son and Papyrus to act as busboy to anything his son brought.

Well, Papyrus comforted himself, whatever he got today would be enough for a room for a couple of more days at the hotel.

* * *

 

 “What do you think of this one?” Sans held up a pretty summer dress, unfolding it and showing the dusty looking monster – Papyrus already had an arm full of boxes and such from the market place and didn’t want to carry anymore but it really isn’t his call, also Papyrus has a feeling that the other was making full use of the larger monsters help today with all the shop and stall owners making comment on how much Sans was buying. This was the first dress the other had shown him however.

It was a pretty one, Papyrus briefly wondered if it was for Sans’s sweetie or perhaps the other had a sister.

“It’s pretty.” Papyrus said honestly, but he had never really been in close quarters with any monster with such a fine dress before – the saloon monsters at Grillby’s cat house didn’t even compare.

“Just imported from France.” The shopkeeper eagerly supplied, “Made from the finest silk and cotton.”

“I bet it will look stunning with the corset that Father brought the other day.” Sans muttered, folding it over his arm and going to the counter to pay for it – only leaving Papyrus to puzzle at that wording but shook his head at the ridiculous thought it brought. What kind of man would buy corsets for his son? A silly notion, he surely misunderstood.

While Sans was distracted by another dress, the dressmaker – a bunny monster looked at him with her half-moon glasses, up from what she was pinning together.

“Hmph.” The rabbit grunted at the sight of them, “So the snakes catch another mouse to add to their collection, hope you last longer than the rest.”

“Excuse me?” Papyrus asked of the other, the bunny just shook her head and returned to her pinning – making Papyrus more uneased, jumping when the gentle tap on the shoulder by the young lord.

“Goodness, are you alright?” Sans asked the other, concern flooding the others big eyes. Papyrus tried to smile to placate the other.

“Just the heat of the day, sir...”

“Yes, and you’ve been carrying all those things for me like a good boy. All for feeble old me...” Sans cooed, stroking the others arm. The dressmaker seemed to snort loudly at that – making the well-dressed skeletons eyes slant and narrow slightly but brighten when turned back to Papyrus – grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the stifling shop with the new dress box at the top of the boxes he was carrying.

“Come, I feel like we could go for a nice cup of tea – my treat.” Sans said, Papyrus followed briefly wondering if he could get a whiskey instead.

* * *

 

Muffet placed a pot of tea between them, along with a pot of milk, sugar and honey – the plus side of having so many arms Papyrus supposed. The spider monster seemed to eye Papyrus oddly, perhaps such a dirty looking monster in almost rags next to a monster with not a seam out of place – and the huge pile of boxes neatly tied together next to them.

“That will be all, Ms Muffet.” Sans said curtly, not looking up from his pouring of the tea – that seemed to shake the hotel owner out of her daze to return to the bar.

“I must seem so out of place in a place like this.” Sans smiled.

“Well, I guess that is one way of putting it...” Papyrus hummed, very aware of all the Saloon’s patrons’ eyes on him.

“How many lumps do you take in your tea?” Sans asked.

“Lumps?” Papyrus asked puzzled, making Sans use his tea spoon to ding the porcelain sugar bowl.

“Oh! Ah – I guess three...?” Papyrus continued unsurely, he didn’t drink tea – he drinks black coffee, maybe it’s like that. Sans dished out the amount of sugar and after one sip he knew he made a horrible mistake – he forced down the reaction of his dislike of the beverage and tried to look interested in the others conversation.

“All my life, Father has sheltered me from the plights of the common people – ever since mother died.” Sans continued.

“I’m sorry about your mother.” Papyrus offered the other, discreetly pushing the teacup away from him.

“That was a long time ago.” Sans waved it off quickly, but leaned forward with hands under his chin, “ How about your family, are you married...or?”

“No, my family had been taken by the plague and the only one I’ve ever thought about proposing to have some grand dreams of performing in the capital city.”

“I’m sorry...” Sans began.

“It was a long time ago, and that love was just puppy love...” Papyrus shrugged, “I’m over it now.”

Sans took a sip of tea, hiding a pretty little smile – secretive and playful. Only for that moment to be broken by the drunken stagger of Aaron, his bulky build was the perfect digger but was let go the same way as Papyrus when the mine dried up – the monster noticed Papyrus and staggered over to his former co-worker.

“Grim days, grim days Paps...” He slurred clapping his large hand against the others shoulder, and leaning against the lanky skeleton.

“C’mon Aaron – any company would have you.” Papyrus comforted the other, “There are heaps of jobs for monsters with strength.”

“I suppose, but what are your plans?’”

“Well, there is apple picking or orange picking...” Papyrus pondered on the jobs off the top of his head.

“Didn’t ya work as a farmhand at the Mayors land?”

“I was just a boy then...and I don’t think I was that good at it.”

“Well, I suppose apple and orange season are coming up...” Aaron nodded at that, “Good luck then.” And the creature staggered away.

“Sorry about that –“Papyrus turned back to Sans, who looked thoughtful.

“So, you are out of work – that’s why you were walking into an oncoming carriage?” Sans asked calmly, quietly absorbing all the information the other offered.

“No, I wasn’t trying to kill myself!” Papyrus reassured the other of that morbid thought, he was too afraid of death to even consider it.

“Orange and apple farms are quite a far way away – don’t you want to stay in town?” Sans continued.

“Yes I do, but, you see...” Papyrus flushed and stammered at the others all seeing gaze.

“You can’t read and write can you?” Sans finished what the other was too embarrassed to admit.

“No, school learning wasn’t that important to my folks – as long as I can work for a wage.” Papyrus seemed to sink into himself, half expecting the other to laugh at him and humiliate him. But Sans continued to look thoughtful, not at all bothered by it, the small smile going unnoticed by Papyrus as he fretted.

“I guess that would make your prospects quite limited...” Sans then turned to Papyrus with a smile; his purple eyes blazing brightly, “What would you say if I offered you a job as a farmhand?”

Papyrus found himself reaching for his lukewarm, overly sweet tea and take a sip with how dry his mouth felt – though he almost spat it out with the sensation of the pointed tip of a well-polished boot trailing up the inside of his leg. Sans only grinned and grinned back at him when he choked and spluttered.

* * *

 

TBC?

Is this an excuse for me to write some more kinks, based on a certain era?

Yes. Don’t judge me. There is a plot...you gotta believe me.

If you liked please leave and kudos and comment

 


	2. Behind the walls

_And the warnings in the tags start now..._

* * *

Papyrus didn’t really know what to think when he stood at the threshold of a small cabin in the expansive land, stream cutting though the fenced in farmland – turning his attention back to the impressive, large hilltop home that dwarfed the simple building  that shared a wall. The large wooden building was dressed in a prim and pretty white with a surrounding veranda – with not a shingle out of place or broken.

 “Well then, that is pretty little house – why, it’ll rival even Grillby’s cat house in town.” Papyrus let out a low whistle at such a sight, he was still uneased with how the other was so close to him and even stoking his leg during the trip back. Sans had laughed at his splutters back at the saloon – claiming he was just teasing the other.

Perhaps it was Sans’s type of humour from his sheltered upbringing, very inappropriate but Papyrus let it go with the others sincere apologies...though the other had a very cute laugh too.

“I would hope it would look better than the whore house...” Sans muttered haughtily.

“I meant no offence...” Papyrus quickly said, he seriously needed to watch what he said around the other.

“None taken.” Sans shrugged gesturing to the building, “When Father came to this land, he wanted to bring some familiar style with him – so he fell the wood and built our home.”

“It’s even prettier than the Mayors house...”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind the humble little cabin next door.” Sans began, yes, the little wooden cabin was what Papyrus was used to instead.

“Wait – this is for me?” Papyrus muttered a little stunned.

“As long as you’re in our employ – you shall have a roof over your head.” Sans hummed in response

“You are too kind...” Papyrus bowed his head to the other, bringing his head up at the light patting from the other on his skull – how an owner would pat a dog.

“Am I?” Sans answered back, smiling back at Papyrus – the poor fellows own smile faltering at that response, the smaller skeleton turned around and unlocked the door. The heavy wooden door squeaked open, and the air smelt musty – of old cigarettes, the scent of heavy cologne and something else, something Papyrus couldn’t put a finger on.

“As you can see our last farmhand left in quite a rush.” Sans tittered irately, brushing a finger against the clinging dust on the furniture. The fading light of the day was barely streaming though the dust covered windows making Sans tread over to the small window and pull open the threadbare curtains, some moths fluttered around being disturbed before perching back on an animal bone chair.

Papyrus looked around – it was a lot nicer then the shoebox room he stayed in, it had a cot with still a usable mattress, a chamber pot under the bed, a big, tin tub to wash his clothes and himself a side table with a ceramic jug and bowl with a mirror without cracks marring it’s surface and a lovely fireplace with still dry wood to burn.

Still, there was something quite off-putting about another monsters loved and cared for worldly possessions just abandoned like this – Papyrus walked forward to the meagre looking mantelshelf, brushing away the grime and dust off the glass of the photo frame, revealing the brown and muted photograph of a monster similar age to Papyrus though a bunny monster.

He wore overalls and a large brimmed straw-hat shaded his eyes, he looked quite grim while holding a large pumpkin but from what Papyrus had witnessed with the camera obscura (at least that’s what he thinks is called) took a long time to capture the image. God knows how long the bunny monster stood out in the heat of the sun – next to the photo was a well-worn and loved leather bound bible . Still some monsters still clung to the beliefs that humans brought with them, though Papyrus wouldn’t be lying, the concept of a better life and a higher being after this existence was a nice story to tell the kiddies or even yourself late at night.

They praise day and night about the wonders of heaven, yet they don’t talk of hell. Just don’t do anything bad and I guess you will never have to worry about it.

Papyrus looked away from the book, jumping away from Sans – the other had crept up behind him while he was lost in thought it seemed.

“Are you a believer?” Sans asked, though as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“I know of it, but I wouldn’t say I believe in it.”

“That’s good, Father got in really heated arguments with him about it.” Sans said continuing his grim conversation about belief like it was a topic discussed over tea and cakes, “He just never knew to keep his hurtful opinions to himself, so naturally Father had to let him go.”

Papyrus turned back to the wall shared with the man house – only to find a dark looking portrait of monster charging into battle on a rearing black horse. Papyrus was never really into art, except for the occasional nudes the guys at the mines got a hold of – pretty, young monsters showing what they were blessed with. That was art to him, but he doubted likening his dirty photos to a painting that was probably painted by a famous artist – like comparing the others house to be just as fancy looking as the brothel near the station in town.

“At least the painting is still in one piece.” Sans hummed after a while of just staring, turning to the tall skeleton, “Right then, it is your duty to keep your space clean and tidy – and supper begins at five sharp, so I suggest you freshen yourself up and change into a clean set of clothes.” Sans gestured to the wardrobe next to the painting, “I’m certain there is still some wearable clothes in there till you buy your own.”

Sans left the small cabin quickly, entering the main house to wait for his Father probably and leaving the taller skeleton to his own devices and thoughts.

Though those thoughts quickly turned back to the leg rising between his legs and the sweet laughter that followed – he was not stranger to sexual arousal, when money allowed he was the first with his hand in the honey pot so to speak.

Perhaps the other was just going through what Papyrus went  though that age and he was a little flattered to be honest – he had crushes on all sorts of monster, the younger monster would probably forget about it if Papyrus just ignored it. He shook his skull and smiled at that comforting thought – beginning to strip mindlessly, layers of dirt joined the dust on the floor, the yellowed and aged shirt dropping to the floor soon followed by his trousers.

* * *

 

Unknown to the stripping monster, it was in his employer’s office, which was the shared wall between the small cabin and the large main house. Dr Gaster had his own painting in the exact position as the other on in the small cabin and he was watching Papyrus though the removable panel of the eyes.

“My boy, as per usual – you have exquisite taste in pets...” Gaster slid the painting panel closed with a smirk, “Fit, tall and those legs...” Gaster let out a chuckle, “They very well go for days...”  
“I’m glad you approve of him Father...I thought it would be nice to have another skeleton around the house – helping with the chores, so we have more time together.” Sans said softly, demeanour shifting as quickly as night turns to day – but he seemed to cross his arms and glare at his father,

“I chose him for both of us to play with – and now you are going off for a lecture at the university.” Sans huffed.

“I’m sorry; you were so looking forward for us breaking him in together... ” Gaster began softly, "Let me make up to you." He strutted towards the younger skeleton and pulled him into his warm embrace – beginning to worship the others clavicle with licks and bites. Sans ‘breath hitched as the other continued, beginning to unbutton the tight fitting vest and shirt in his exploring  - he seemed well versed in the terrain of the smaller skeleton body, movements not pausing for a moment as he undid Sans’s trousers buttons and pushing a hand down his underwear to fondle and rub at the hot ridges of the others pelvis.

It didn't take long for the purple glow grow and swell into the hardness of the others small cock, rubbing and coaxing the others ectoplasm to swell and overflow from his silt - Gaster continued to roll and pinch the tip with his hand, pressing and digging a finger in the tip slightly till the other could bare it no longer.

Sans tried to pull away, not before Gaster bit down – hard. Sans half moaned and screamed into his father’s shoulder so their new guest wouldn’t hear the almost yowl like noise from the other side of the wall.   Gaster licked at the marrow that dripped freely – surely leaving a mark and a bruise, Gaster pulled his hand free, the purple magic clung to his fingers like a sticky gel.

“You came?”  Gaster huffed, smirk growing ever present as he offered his long digits for the other – Sans opened his mouth and began to clean his own ectoplasm from the older skeletons fingers.

“Are you that excited for your new pet?” Gaster muttered, “I never excited you like that... nor had any of the other toys I allow you to play with.” He pulled his fingers from the others lapping tongue.

“You really are a whore like your mother...” Gaster tutted and shook his head at the other, “ A devil, a demon in those books that damn rabbit yammered about – like her ,you a being of pain and pleasure, no creature on this earth can resist you.” Gaster straightened his clothes and fixed his creases, giving Sans a look.

“Get yourself cleaned up, and do something about that mark on your neck.” Gaster said sternly, pointing his son out the door. Sans bowed his head, and quickly left his father’s office to his own room upstairs. Gaster smiled a little at the small retreating rear, he had no doubt that his son would be able to break the stray they picked up – it was just the thing they needed after that stupid bible loving rabbit. It would be a shame for Gaster needing to do away with the attractive, simple minded skeleton the same way as the rabbit.

The rabbit made some fine fertiliser for the garden however, but he had heard wonders about blood and bone for the roses. They are looking poorly with the heatwave they have been having recently.

* * *

 

 Papyrus couldn’t help but stare at the fine china in fount of him, some peas, potatoes and corn – a thickly cut steak was the main attraction of the meal though, but the meat seemed to resting in a mix of its own juice and blood. Papyrus couldn’t help but poke the meat with his knife; the very middle was very rare.

“I’m sorry; I should’ve asked how you preferred your steak.” Sans said, noticing the others untouched meal.

Papyrus shook his head at the others concern and lied,

“No, this is fine.” He began to make a show of enthusiastically cutting into the meat, stabbing quite a large chunk on his chunk, and eating the piece with forced gusto.

“It is delicious!” He said with a smile after he swallowed the meat, more complex for his body to break down from the almost only bean, grits, corn and bread diet he had as a miner. The fellows he was would probably be kicking themselves at the very idea of Papyrus eating red meat – while he would’ve cooked it a little longer it was a nice change.

Eating the almost uncooked meat was worth the beaming smile of the smaller skeleton,

“I’m so glad; I shall let the cook know.”

Gaster seemed to be watching the exchange closely, sipping a glass of red wine – Papyrus couldn’t stop himself and admire the way the Doctor carried himself.

“I’m glad you two get along...” Gaster muttered idly, swirling his glass.

“Hm?” Papyrus mumbled with a mouth full of potatoes and peas – Sans politely looked up too at his father’s muttering.

“Puts my mind at ease to have someone else here to look after Sans while I’m at the capital for a lecture.”

Papyrus swallowed noisily at that, looking vaguely panicked at the very notion at being left alone.

“Yes, you are catching a train tomorrow morning.” Sans said, with a soft smile.

“Yes, I’ll try not to wake you when I get up.” Gaster continued casually, “I know it’s your first week on the job, but I’d love if you could help Sans out around the main house as well as the grounds.” Gaster gave Papyrus a look,

“Can trust you with this Papyrus?”

“Of course, sir.” Papyrus answered the other monster, but finding his eyes draw to the smaller skeleton distacting himself with his own meal – staring at the blood ooze out of the meat with every cut.

 

* * *

 

 


	3. Will you walk into my parlour? said the spider to the fly

_This chapter contains the following, gaster and sans being creepy arseholes, papyrus feeling like he needs a adult, drinking, and minor watersports. Not too crazy just yet._

* * *

As the night continued to wind down, the conversation becoming far more casual and free flowing – being lubricated by the doctor’s desire to open his aged bourbon and share amongst them. Papyrus spoke of things that he never let any other monster know, both the doctor and his son seemed to be able to get him spill titbits of his life and past – even making him delve into sexual conquests and fantasies he had.

If he was sober, Papyrus wouldn’t be running his mouth like he was – being encouraged by the Doctors own tales of over indulgence, lust and fantasies unbecoming of a doctor. If Papyrus was sober he would’ve been more cautious - if he was sober he would be wary of the excitement growing in the youngest at the tables sockets.

 Papyrus’s fine crystal glass was filled with amber liquid, and his glass was being refilled like clockwork each time he took a sip – the odd jokes and lewd humour of the two other skeletons continued to puzzle and buzz in the skull of the simple skeleton; the table seemed too large to be comfortable for only two skeletons that lived in this home. The formal dining area spoke of lavish dinner parties with the wealthy friends of the charming doctor and his alluring son, Papyrus could almost hear the laughter of those rich monsters – surely cracking demeaning jokes about simple monsters just like Papyrus - being watched on by the many paintings of monsters always watching, painted eyes wide and all seeing.

Dr Gaster spoke of his colleagues and the students from the university in the city he was going to speak at the lecture – he spoke of cadavers and of corpses, the different states of rigour mortis in the human body. Papyrus couldn’t help but stare at the crimson walls, the dark wood of the many painting frames and the dark wood accents of the room - colours coincidentally the similar palate of the doctors topic of discussion. 

There was an ornate fireplace in the wall, decorated with black stone and what seemed to be enamelled and bejewelled birds and the white bones of skeletal figures embracing or lounging with funny letters under those white enamelled fireplace.  It is an impressive piece that put Papyrus’s own simple wood burner to shame.

 Despite the lush and rich room, the room began to unnerve Papyrus greatly – he tried to push it aside, his nerves buzzing from being in an new environment and all that...but there was something raw and animalistic in this feeling building in the very depths of his soul. It was urging him to flee, all the while just trying to convince himself not to throw up his dinner.

“The very secrets this house holds – my, aren’t we glad the walls can’t talk!” The doctor laughed, Sans had giggled at that comment; Papyrus couldn’t stop the crawling unease trail up his spine – finally putting the glass down onto the table so he wouldn’t spill it.

Everything was spinning and twisting onto itself.

The clang of a grandfather clock reverberated in the room – the clock striking 12 times, the witching hour has come. Sans stood, taking to the drink with more ease then Papyrus but still his round and youthful face was flush with the heat.

“I believe I’ll call it night...” Sans nodded to his father and Papyrus, sockets half-mast and giving Papyrus a look that one would describe a snake to have – deciding on its next meal.

“I believe I’ll have a cigarette before I go up.” Gaster said to his son, distracting the other from his intense, burning gaze – there seemed to be an unspoken demand from the doctor in his sockets.

“Fine.” Sans rolled his eye light’s, visibly displeased by the others request but not trying to stop the other, “Don’t stay up too late, you need to catch the train tomorrow morning.”

 Sans quietly left the room and into the main hallway where the impressive stairs were – leading to the younger skeletons room and possibly up to the Doctors bedroom too. Papyrus was all alone with the older skeleton – grinning smile never leaving his face and mismatched eye lights flickered as they watched him intently.

“Do you smoke?” Gaster asked the younger skeleton – his long, slender fingers pulled out a pretty little silver cigarette case and a box of matches from his waistcoat pocket, long since hanging up his coat jacket by the door when he entered the house. 

“Sometimes...” Papyrus slurred a bit, the drink was making his jaw move far slowly then he was used to – the bourbon was strong, none of that watered down crap at Muffet’s saloon. He took the offered cigarette carefully, trying not to crush the small package in his drunken grip.

Gaster smirked and went to take another cigarette for himself,

“I bet you’re the type of monster who lights one up after a good fuck.” Gaster said crudely.

Papyrus wavered a little, vision spinning, looking ready to put down the cigarette and just sleep off the evening.

“Nothing beats a fresh, lit one in your mouth...” Gaster continued, pulling out the tanned wrapper – the paper was hand wrapped and plump with tobacco. Gaster stood and gestured the other to follow him into the room across the dining room. And against Papyrus’s better judgement and against the primal fear welling in his soul he followed his new employer into a room across the dining room.

Gaster swung open the heavy mahogany door and the smell of old smoke, the rich smell of brandy, old books and the sweet smell of wood smoke from old fires on the cold nights hit Papyrus like a ton of bricks.

“Sorry – Sans would get mad if we smoke anywhere else.” Gaster explained, smile turning into a smirk, “Will you walk into my parlour? said the spider to the fly...” He said ominously, startling Papyrus,

“Excuse me, what-“Papyrus spluttered out.

“My apologies...” Gaster picked up a book, left on the low table with a marble top showing it to Papyrus, “That is my favourite opening line of a poem in this book, when Sans was younger we used to quote it – a human author though.”

Gaster grinned, as if to ease Papyrus from that off putting line – smile calm, collected and eye lights gazing at Papyrus with a disarming look.

“Sorry sir, I am unfamiliar with fancy books of poetry like that...” Papyrus slurred out, steps wobbly and unsteady – finally sitting down on a chair across from the doctor. The older skeleton lounged back in his plush chair, legs crossed as he watched the younger skeleton – he lit his own cigarette with ease and puffed away eagerly at it.

“Ah, yes – Sans did tell me of your lack of ability in the written word.” Gaster hummed, spiral of smoke escaping his nose and mouth as he exhaled. He threw the box of matches next to Papyrus on the coach – Papyrus finally raised the cigarette to his mouth and let it hung loosely in his maw.

Papyrus flinched at that patronising tone of voice, cheekbones flushing orange in embarrassment – Gaster noticed and tuttered, trying to comfort the other but failing.

“I meant no offence.” Gaster said, noticing the others trouble at lighting his own cigarette – standing up again, grabbing the back of Papyrus’s skull and pressing his own lit cigarette to the others unlit one. Papyrus tried to pull away, out of instinct not expecting the other to get so close so quickly, but found the grip was far too strong.

This moment felt like it went on for far too long with how intense the others gaze was, but Gaster let go, and smoke was spiralling from Papyrus’s own cigarette. And Papyrus took a long drag, trying to distract himself from the intimidating and sensual monster in fount of him – it wasn’t sensuality that Papyrus found attractive but rather something dangerous, of a predator trapping prey.

He sat in eerie silence, trying to look at anything else then the doctor – who rather then returning to the chair went to look at the books while humming an unfamiliar tune.

* * *

 

The room was just as lovely and at the same time just as stifling as the formal dining room – filled with plush and heavily patterned chairs, lounges – by the corner was a fainting chair to rest on and the glassy dead gaze of many taxidermy animals that were posed in the room. As well as it being a very masculine feeling room, but still very dark and red – the fireplace was just as lovely as the dining room one and framed around the fireplace was an expansive book collection. Papyrus never saw such a collection of books before, maybe the school master, Asgore, came close but he couldn’t really tell what they all were about.

Papyrus had been tempted to ask the stern school master if he could teach him to read and write – but the large goat man always acted like he got a bad stench under his nose when Papyrus tipped his hat in greeting when the big monster was walking around town, possibly on the prowl for delinquents and students that should be in his classroom.

“You will be expected to work the week and Saturday, Sunday is your day off – since I’ll be out, I expect the grounds and house to be in order when I get back in a week’s time.” Gaster said, pulling out an old looking book with a gilded edge, drumming his fingers against it, “And Sans is to be the master of the house.”

Papyrus nodded, only then noticing how the other held the book – cover open and fanning out the pictures revealing a faint coloured image. Papyrus stared for the longest time, trying to figure out what the image being revealed to him was – flushing when it finally clicked what the hidden artwork in the fore edge of the gilded pages.

“And as such, you are to do whatever Sans’s wishes...” Gaster continued lowly.

 The secret artwork was of two skeletal figures were entwined on a glassy field, the embracing figures in a position that Papyrus had some of his mining friends boast about 'fucking the whore like a bitch in heat.' after a night in Grillby’s brothel – pelvis against pelvis, the rutting of the figures was animalistic but still just an image. A small, but lewd hidden painting – but the expressions contorted in pleasure and pain was as clear as day.  

Gaster smirked at Papyrus, and closed the book with a loud clap – breaking the others line of sight of the undulating figures captured in time, as a naughty little surprise for someone who knew what to look for.

“It’s getting late – time to call it night.” Dr Gaster said cheerfully, leaving Papyrus to stand stunned, embarrassed and confused – staring after his employer as he left his new farmhand in the smoking parlour, cigarette almost completely burnt out as it hung from his maw.

Gaster put out the gas lamps with a brass dial by the door frame – plunging Papyrus into almost darkness, the brightness of his eye lights and vivid orange blush reflecting in the forever gazing dead eyes of the animals that filled this room morbidly.

* * *

 

Papyrus did not sleep peacefully though the night, when he rolled out of the bed he could barely recall how he got back into the cabin with all the drinking that he did – but somehow he did. It was the crack of dawn too; the doctor would’ve left already for his appointment in the capital, making his headache even worse with the morning chill – bringing a tremble to his bones.

 The severe chill made him stare down at his bare bones in a moment of surprise making him grab the thick woollen blanket and wrap himself in the warm folds. He stood, just in his blanket with a wince – pulling out the chamber pot with the side of his foot, positioning it by the wall and with a few moments of shifting and letting the blanket fall and pool around him with one arm outstretched, bracing himself against the wall. It seemed the liquor may have overheated him – he stared at the clothes scattered around in shambles, his drunken self even forgo his long johns.

His right hand clasped around the orange, jelly like magic – shaping it into a long and slick orange member. He pumped his cock a few times, but not enough to make it hard; aiming as best he could – it didn’t take long for the excess magic from the night before to rush out and stream into the ceramic dish, hitting the white china noisily.

He clenched his sockets closed; the screaming in his skull was slowly becoming an ebbing pain – though the relief of release caused a dull but numbing pleasure throughout his body, even as he dribbled to a stop, so lost in the feeling that he didn’t hear the door open.

“Pardon me...” Sans said, making Papyrus jump and turn to the younger skeleton – he was unabashedly staring at his dangling length. Papyrus covered himself with his hands desperately and forcing him to disperse the sticky and wet ectoplasm.

“Sorry, I should’ve knocked before entering.” Sans continued, looking very amused and dressed like he was expecting to get dirty or to work, “I thought you would like to have some coffee with me before we start our chores for the day?” He shook his pot, grinning with his angelic smile.

Papyrus picked up the blanket to shield himself from the other more securely – Sans just put down the coffee pot and cup, and turned away leaving the cabin.

“I’ll wait outside for you, till you are decent.” Sans said, while closing the door behind him – leaving it open a crack beginning to chat idly though the door,

“I hope you like bees – we’re going to look at my hives, hey, did you know that the drones are only created to mate with the queen, and when they do they drop dead?” Sans continued, “Isn’t that fascinating?”

* * *

 

_please drop a comment & kudos if you like :) _

_nothing more attractive then talking about the life cycle of a drone honey bee - whole purpose in life is to mate with the queen and then dropping dead. And bringing up that poem if a sure way to get friends_


	4. Chapter 4

_Warnings for this chapter: drugging, forced arousal and rape.Also a really bad drug trip...and the fear of holes being in things that shouldn't have holes is here too -slightly._

* * *

 

Papyrus warily stared at the noisily buzzing bees – the hives were placed on the very edge of the farmland, placed out of the way so the bees and monsters were not bothered until it was time to rob their rich sugary stores.

He was wary because it seemed the younger skeleton only had protective gear for himself and not for Papyrus, and while being monsters of neither flesh nor fur – they should hold no fear of stings and the like. Generally, it was the sensation of lots of insects or other things crawling on his bones and though any other gap between had set Papyrus’s teeth on edge – probably came from that one time one of the guys in the mine thought it would be a funny prank to set a snake on his chest while he was snoozing.  At that time the snake didn’t stay curled up, eager to explore all the tiny gaps of its new resting spot – bone chilling to describe the sensation was an understatement.

“I want to see how their honey stores are going for winter...” Sans muttered while adjusting his hat covered in mesh, his bandana had been wrapped around his nose and mouth, long coat had looked to be taken from his father’s stash of long lab coats and long leather gloves – Papyrus though noticed the odd, faint brown, red stains on the coat.

Sans noticed the others gaze and rolled his eye lights while using a blunt knife to dislodge the wax the bees had sealed the hive from the lid – the bees were buzzing, alert but not falling into a frenzy to attack Sans or Papyrus thankfully but they had started to swarm around the two skeletons – strangely docile, perhaps the breed was less aggressive.

“Father used this while he was developing some photos – he likes taking photos, it’s a shame about the chemical stains though.” Sans continued to mutter, though sounding like he was trying to stop a smirk.

Papyrus thought back to the stern doctor, yes, that hobby seemed to suit the odd, intimidating monster. But all he could do is believe the others word on the matter – he did see some strange or off putting double exposed photos in frames on the wall and there was a pictures of a baby Sans, at least he could assume it was Sans.

There was even an empty basin near the bee hives, perhaps drying from their last use in the sun - a dirty brownish red ring was near the old basin brim.

But while Papyrus didn’t use or see the type of photo developing, far too expensive for any former miner for a mere hobby to have but the chemicals left similar stains to monster dust and monster blood against metal – leaving an awful rusted coloured ring. One drunken night in the saloon had left Papyrus to stumble though to the wrong room to find a monster in a full tub, the water had long since turned red and dirty from the dust beginning to erode the body - the cuts on the monsters limp wrists had been determined self inflicted. The unfortunate monster loved one of the saloon girls, being turned down by her was possibly the push he needed to take his own life.

Bone chilling, the sensation of a winding snake though his bones, this whole situation reminded him of that feeling.

Sans finally pulled the wooden lid off the hive, revealing its bustling centre – the off white naturally sculpted wax and honey filled frames were being diligently filled and maintained by the busy bees.

“Do you know that when the hive gets too large?” Sans continued, Papyrus was sure that the other sensed his building unease in the building hum of the black and yellow insects.

“I don’t.” Papyrus answered softly, eye lights darting to path leading back to the house – a day and night in this place really made it clear that something was wrong with this place, something was wrong with the doctor and his son.

“The queen bee takes her drones and workers – leaving her original hive queen less, if a larva hasn’t been feed royal jelly then another queen will never be born.” Sans continued, hoisting a heavy looking tin with spout and a well-worn bellow – a smoker, the scent of Applewood and something else filled the air began surround the skeletons, the hives and the irate bees.

It was strong smelling, completely overpowering the Applewood and similar to what lingered on the doctor and his study – Sans stopped the puffing of the smoker as the bees had almost completely stilled, sluggishly moving where they were perched. Most of them were on the ground, the smoke didn’t only relax them but made them act drugged and useless – Sans smiled, happy with the outcome.

Papyrus staggered backwards, world spinning briefly so he had to shake his skull to clear his head – the pungent smelling smoke felt like it was slowly filling his skull, mind becoming foggier and less focused.

“It had taken awhile to create the proper mixture.” Sans continued, “When inhaled, the noxious fumes can really cause a knockout.”

Papyrus staggered, struggling to remain standing.

“The chemicals would cause nasty burns if handled recklessly, but soaking wood chips and then drying them can cause a longer drugged reaction if burned.” Sans explained, still looking at the heavy frames of honey – ignoring the struggling taller skeleton, trying to keep his footing.

“What?” Papyrus said, panic rising in his soul – how could the other be so calm, explaining to the other how he had been drugged by whatever was inside the simple smoker.

“When burned, I have found that effect is not limited to just bees.” Sans turned to the other skeleton, visibly trembling and struggling against the smoke dulling and weakening his senses.

“Of course, finding the correct dosage had cost many hives – but the survivors had become even stronger, perhaps more docile in later generations.” Sans then let out a curt laugh, “But perhaps they just learnt to behave rather than get smoked.”

“…” Papyrus staggered, finally succumbing to the dizzy spell as the world around him – the grass and sky – began to spin together and turn into black spots entering his vision, before blacking out he saw the smaller skeleton return the frame to the wooden box and begin to walk closer to him with gloved hands outstretched towards him, the many bees that fell beside him and on him in their drugged if not dying state.

“I do hope you learn to behave…”

* * *

 

 The next moments were filled with a mix of delusion and confusion, the sensation of being dragged though the estates halls as he went back and out of a blooming darkness – reality and the drug were mixing making him believe the wallpaper was moving and writhing, taking the form of millions of bees crawling out of the wall. Honey dripping and the saccharine smell of the pungent smoke continued to follow him and fill his throbbing skull. Papyrus only fully blacked out when he looked to his chest, shirt ripped revealing the buzzing hive, his rib cage filled with holes and busily being worked on by the little black and yellow insects.

* * *

 

When Papyrus came to, feeling queasy and ill, he found himself staring up at the deep crimson ceiling – as ostentatious as the dining room but seemed to be more private and a chamber dedicated to taboo and even forbidden things. There were many hooks on the wall, shackles and whips – some devices that even Papyrus did not recognize but made his mind raced at what they could be used for as well as many large paintings, framed photos and frame old illustrated pages from old human literature; though he was unfamiliar with the language it was written in but he was familiar with the subject matter they depicted, mouth going dry and the increased panic continued to rise.

They all had similar themes of sexual gratification, release, the figures captured by camera or an artist’s hand were all in one way or another bound, spread, sucked, bitten and brought to either agony or the cusp of pleasure – all looking painfully realistic and lewd, would probably even make devil blush at the vulgarity captured.

And there were the other photos, photos a mix of monsters and humans – for the monsters they had to be the exact moment when they were about to dust, the glassy, lifeless eyes were caught perfectly in the camera lens and exposed perfectly in the paper for all eternity.

The humans were poses as one would’ve if creating a wake, eyes lifeless and soulless – skin preserved perfectly however. His rising panic and magic was beginning to rise up like bile, threatening to expel itself, though his spinning mind and rising panic was interrupted by the sudden sensation of a drenched flannel against his skull. He jumped, struggling in renewed panic but finding he couldn’t move, his wrists were pulled hard above his skull – tried to the headboard made from blackened metal but a stiff bar of metal which connected the cuffs around his wrists kept his wrists far enough apart to be painful, with some jostling he could feel the same had been done to his knees; spreading them obscenely with his clothes being removed. He found himself peeking at his chest, feeling a brief amount of relief at his ribcage looking normal and not so…hivey, but it was only a brief moment of relief.

Papyrus turned his neck to the softly shushing smaller skeleton – obviously stronger than he seemed if the other was able to drag his dead weight, perhaps the other had practice? The other continued to dab at his skull with a flannelette and a ceramic bowl of water though, like this was an average day for the other.

But before he could demand an explanation, pitifully hoping that this wasn’t happening and giving the other the benefit of a doubt – that hope had been completely thrown out of the window as he eyed the others outfit in horror. The other was only wearing undergarments, female undergarments with a too tight corset that would seem to cause the other pain – tiny line fractures on his ribs, evidence of old wounds were obvious to see even under all the fine lace.

Did the others father do that to him? Papyrus pondered, was the other simply copying what his father does? Did the doctor restrain the other like the smaller skeleton was doing to him? Papyrus began to feel a smidge of pity for the other but the fear of the situation quickly overpowered those traitorous and pitying thoughts.

Papyrus stared at the fine lace and boning, far finer than the ones the girls at the brothel wore and danced in – but it seemed Sans did not wear the bottoms that went with it, whether he did not bother to wear them or simply took them off while Papyrus had been knocked out.

“Perhaps the dosage is still a tad off.” Sans hummed, “You threw up while I was moving you so I had to change you out of that filth – but you don’t have to worry about that anymore, you will be dressed to match your station now, since you are with me now.”

“What in god’s name are you doing!?” Papyrus finally found his voice, shouting at the other but was quickly silenced by the cloth being shoved into his mouth, muffling the others cries and insults.

“I thought I made it clear, we are not a god-fearing household.” Sans said curtly, with an almost normal smile gesturing to the lewd objects and frames. Papyrus continued to scream in the wet cloth making Sans smile more. “Calling out for god won’t save you now.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this, this can be fun you know – maybe you’ll learn to like it, just like I have.” Sans whispered to the trembling and prone skeleton, “If you don’t fall into line before father comes back from his trip, he will ruin you – I don’t want to bury you like the others.” Sans continued, “I don’t want your picture to be hang on the wall.”

Sans continued, rising a hand to stroke the side of Papyrus’s skull – his orange eye lights tracking it wearily.

“I think I want to keep you…” Sans continued, climbing over his legs and curling into the others larger frame – continuing to stroke the others chest, the touch might’ve been comforting if it were someone else entirely; at least someone from Ms Muffet’s brothel whom he had paid would’ve been more ideal then his employers young son.

His employer that seemed to have a hobby that was not what a good, righteous gentleman ought to have – even this lewd hobby would bring shame to Grillby and Muffet, joint owners of the brothel and saloon had been known to sell lewd pictures of their workers for extra money on the side. Papyrus continued to wildly look around for a means of escape, not going unnoticed by the smaller skeleton judging by how the gentle stroking with fingers had began to drag and claw threateningly against the older skeletons bones.

“I have never been with another monster fully, let alone another skeleton besides father – Father was greedy with the others he brought over to play with…he always cut in at the good part” Sans huffed, annoyed at that sense of injustice. Papyrus couldn’t help but ponder how literal the other meant when he said his father ‘cut in’.

Papyrus continued to feebly struggle, the iron bracelets far too well made – his shouts were still muffled with the flannel stuffed in his maw. Papyrus found himself wishing he just trusted his gut instinct from the very beginning with these monsters – his unease was shrugged off as the oddity of the upper class, perhaps that’s just how they acted. He was not book smart, far from it but he wasn’t slow – though this situation he found himself chained in only seemed to prove how naive he still was.

“I always wanted an older brother…” Sans continued lowly, “You’re just like how I imagined one would be.

Now, there would have been a few things Papyrus would’ve said about that – one, brothers don’t do this type of thing, fathers don’t do this type of things with their sons, and this is just wrong. But even if he had use of his words, he doubted the other would’ve listened to him – there was a manic look in the others sockets as he continued his unwelcome petting, progressing even lower.

Papyrus took a sharp breath at the sensation of the others dancing digits exploring his pelvic cradle – feeling as though he might choke on his makeshift gag as the other continued his effort to bring him to arousal. Sans seemed to know where exactly to touch and rub that couldn’t be gained from his own self exploration – the sinking feeling and the panic Papyrus felt was increasing, the sensation, while it would’ve brought him pleasure otherwise this was just making him feel ill. Papyrus pleaded with the other to stop, orange tinted sweat began to dot his skull and tears began to form on the brim of his sockets.

Sans stopped, obviously getting frustrated at the lack of interest the others body was showing and moved away allowing the poor, restrained skeleton some breathing room finally. And movement of the others jaw with him yanking out the flannel, now damp with the others orange saliva – Papyrus did the only thing he could think of, shout for help.

Sans glared, annoyed at the racquet the other was making – walking out of the room, taking the soiled flannel with him, and locking the door behind him. It was probably the first hour that passed was when Papyrus finally stopped his screaming for the help that would never come – he wasn’t even sure exactly where this room was in the estate, the lack of windows and the stone walls made Papyrus think he was underground.

* * *

 

The hours seemed to past sluggishly, the clocks in the room were all set at different times if working at all – one particular clock, a novelty cloak seemed to have tiny wooden cancan figures come though the little doors and when the hour struck, kicking their jointed legs and flashing the audience only to exit. It was perhaps the only thing he could imagine himself to enjoy or find amusement in, but not enough to spend any money to buy it – it would’ve been charming if it wasn’t in this room.

Papyrus struggled to get out of the shackles even more violently till he could feel the bruises and marrow began to form around his ankles and wrists – he had to stop his attempts at escape as the dull ache began to set in, exhaustion and stress of the situation began to set in as his traitorous sockets began to close.

* * *

 

He jolted awake, finding the small skeleton by his bedside – tipping what seemed to be an ether bottle on the flannel that acted as a makeshift gag beforehand, the strong-smelling chemical soaked the fabric and was placed gently over his nasal cavity and mouth. And on top of the smelly flannel was what felt like a rubber ball forcefully wedged between his teeth, pushing the disgusting tasting cotton washer in his mouth – the rubber ball was strapped securely to his skull by some well-worn leather straps.

“Breathe…” Sans purred at Papyrus, the annoyance that was once on the others face had faded away – returning to his perch on Papyrus body, rather than crawling up on his chest the other had moved between Papyrus’s spread legs. Even more unease filled Papyrus, and he unwillingly began to huff and breath in the noxious fumes of what even the other doused the flannel out as the other seemed to remove a square of the bed – revealed to be simply an ottoman with the same height to the bed, easily removed for easy access… obviously this bed was custom made with Papyrus flushed and felt his train of thought drift off and his panicked breathes began to slow and steady.

Cotton wool and fuzzy thoughts filled his skull soon, it was becoming harder to form any thoughts, even for continued resistance -his whole body felt warm and comfortable laying in the plush bed. The pain of the metal cutting into his bones was only a dull pain now – it kind of felt nice, unable to stop himself from rubbing his chuffing bones even more and arching into the cold metal bonds.

“Feel good now?” Sans asked, the others voice seemed far away but he was just between Papyrus’s femurs – hand pressing and rubbing at the ridges of his pelvis. Papyrus could feel the familiar tingling sensation of his magic stirring, having no control over how his magic reacted to the stimulus of the experienced and deft fingers.

His thick, gooey ectoplasm began to form from his pelvis – his cock becoming swollen and painful with how the others gentle strokes had turned into forceful tugging and squeezing the newly formed member. Sans ignored the muffled whimpers from the other, staring hungrily at the unwilling offering – intent on keeping the other in painful pleasure.

Papyrus felt so sluggish, whatever ether or pungent smelling drug the other was using now made him feel drunk or heavy headed though it wasn’t the same as the hallucination inducing smoke from before – there had been many of the time where he had drunk too much and found himself with company from the saloon but the dulling of his thoughts and freewill always made him wary of his time at the saloon and brothel unless he wanted to have his wage stolen or shotgun pointed at his head.

Papyrus could only pitifully whimper, the other was not allowing him time to even soften at the frightful situation he was in with the others continued ministrations – he did not want this but the other seemed intent on taking what he wanted. And the smaller skeleton did, gladly, taking pleasure by forcing the others erection to stay hard and aligning himself above Papyrus’s own magical construct, not giving the restrained skeleton any warning before he sat down.

The smaller skeletons face did not seem to twist in discomfort at the unprepared intrusion but seemed to flush in delight as he began to ride him hard and fast –  but getting visibly annoyed at Papyrus’s own wincing expression of woe, closing his sockets with every bounce the other did; trying to mentally escape though the others moans were making it far more difficult. Papyrus found his own orgasm being dragged out of him though by the others own tightening body, orange and purple magic splattering and dripping onto the darkly coloured bed sheets from the small skeletons twitching entrance; perhaps joining other splatters of bodily fluids now invisible to the naked eye. The only relief Papyrus felt was that it was finally over - only to whimper like a kicked dog when he felt the unwelcome heat began to build up again and the small skeleton only took a brief moment of rest to start to ride him again.

* * *

 

Papyrus couldn’t sleep, the effects of the ether finally waning over his mind, the smaller skeleton was snuggling against him like a child with a giant teddy bear that Papyrus sometimes spotted at the county fair that you could win by shooting targets – he was never good at those games but found himself wishing he didn’t pawn off his pistol soon after he lost his mining job.

Though owning a gun and using it would probably not help him in this situation, if only to make him feel safer with the false hope of being able to shoot someone -both Sans and the absent doctor were confident in killing any monster and any human they lured into their clutches.

No, Papyrus thought morbidly, he wouldn’t be able to shoot these predators but he would be able to escape himself, at least from this mortal hell – he was distracted from that train of thought by the outstretching of the smaller skeletons hand and purple eyes looking at him sleepily.

Never would’ve Papyrus thought that such a sleepy expression, a look that lovers reserved for their bed partner when they woke could look so menacing.

“Like a freshy kept swam of bees, if you seal them it for long enough they wouldn’t leave again – making themselves home.” Sans began, “I hope you make yourself home too….”

Sans smiled and then continued chillingly,

“If you try and leave – I’ll simply tell the sheriff that out of the goodness of my father’s heart he allowed you to be a farmhand, only for you to jump at the opportunity to steal from us and molest me.” Sans began lowly, “I mean who would believe a fully-grown monster was overpowered by little old me… and such a crime against a minor, why, you would be strung up and hung.”

Papyrus could only stare, trying to fathom to the cruel nature of such a small monster, unable to scream of shout at the gag in place – freshly thrashing in his binds as the other gently stroked his chest and begin to hum softly, trying and failing to soothe Papyrus, pleased at his new toy and confident in the others future obedience.

There will be mistakes for sure, some setbacks on the road but Sans was very patient to reap the lush fruits of his labor of ‘love’.

* * *

 


End file.
